Craziness in Vegas? Why not
by talkhard818
Summary: [Based on movie, kinda) Essentially, we have Ichabod, his young ward Llama, a new inspector named Shawn and two girls off for an encore with the Horseman after he exposes a penchant for chickens. How they get to Vegas, we shall never know. RR, thanks
1. He's Back

(Author's Note: OK, this was written purely for fun, I don't really care if they're out of character or anything, because that's the point of a humorous story now, isn't it? So please don't leave me angry reviews about the authenticity of my story. Washington Irving, would you please not rise from your grave and try to eat my brains for using your characters? Merci Buckets. Your copyright's probably run out anyway. Oh, as well, the character of Llama is essentially young Masbath for those who care, and yes, I've made his last name Van Tassel even though he's not a Van Tassel. While my friends and I were watching the movie we dubbed him Llama Van Tassel because it sounds funny. That is all. Oh, and also, Remus Lupin from the Harry Potter series shows up for a brief cameo, along with Captain Jack Sparrow, as well do Raoul Duke and Doctor Gonzo from the movie/book Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. I personally guarantee some of the stuff they do will not seem overly hilarious unless you have read the book or seen the movie. Our author is something of a Johnny Depp fan, as you may have noticed. Now without further ado.)  
  
Ichabod heard the door open and abruptly threw off his lacy pink overcoat. No one must ever know about his little secret. He cleared his throat masculinly,  
  
"Yes? Who's there?"  
  
"Master, we've been informed of continued action regarding the headless horseman incident." Came the voice of his young ward, Llama. Ichabod smacked his forehead audibly,  
  
"Christ, not again! I'm not going to be able to do this alone. We're going to have to enlist some help. I'm scared of spiders, for God's sake. Do you honestly think I'll be able to take on another battle with Hell by myself?"  
  
"No, Master Crane. Might I suggest someone to help?"  
  
"Shoot." Ichabod replied.  
  
"Inspector Shawn." Ichabod made a "please continue" gesture with his hand.  
  
"That's it. Inspector Shawn. He lives a few towns over. In Perthshire, I believe."  
  
"Perthshire folkle?!?" exclaimed Ichabod, clasping his hands joyously, "What fun!" Llama raised an eyebrow at Ichabod,  
  
"Shall I send for him, then?" Ichabod was silent, busying himself continuing his rug-hooking. He was making a chicken-rug. Llama left, and soon Ichabod's maid Sarah came in.  
  
"Taking a break from fucking the stable-boy long enough to dust my study?" asked Ichabod patronizingly.  
  
"Such language from such a PRISTINE girl..." spat Sarah. Ichabod rolled his eyes and continued rug-hooking.  
  
The door opened and in walked Llama, closely followed by a tall, skinny man with blonde hair and shocking blue eyes, and a short, skinny girl with blonde hair and brown eyes.  
  
"Inspector Shawn," the skinny man held out a hand to Ichabod and smiled. He delivered an even warmer smile to Sarah.  
  
"I wouldn't get your hopes up too much, Inspector." Ichabod whispered, "Word about town is she's got the gout you-know-where. Fucked every man this side of London, save for the respectable ones."  
  
"I'll be the judge of that, thank you Inspector Crane." Shawn said curtly. The blonde girl held out her hand to Ichabod, and instead of shaking it he kissed it,  
  
"What a beautiful...dress you've got, madam." he said, flustered, "May you never find a live turtle in your soup." Jesus, thought Ichabod, I always say the most horrible random crap when I fall in love...  
  
To his great horror, the girl looked at him like he had three heads,  
  
"Pleased to meet you, Inspector Crane. My name's Leah." She raised an eyebrow at him condescendingly. But Ichabod was too smitten. We have the same eyebrow movements, he thought happily.  
  
"Well, let's get down to brass tacks. How much for the ape?" asked Shawn, "Whaaat?" he asked in response to the strange looks, "Fear and Loathing kicks ass. Anyshnizzle."  
  
"What exactly is it that's been happening in Sleepy Hollow?" asked Leah. Ichabod smiled at the sound of her voice, but then caught himself,  
  
"Llama, why don't you explain?"  
  
"Well," began Llama, "Every single chicken in our tiny village was found completely headless this morning. They are all of course still alive and well, as most chickens usually are following decapitation. Some have also strangely developed speaking abilities, like our good friend Ethan over here."  
  
"Yesh I chan cock, oo shilly, shilly boy!" The chicken said. It was apparent that being headless had caused quite a speech impediment. Shawn dissolved in a fit of giggles,  
  
"He said cock..." At times Shawn had the wit capacity of a 5 year old boy. Ichabod rolled his eyes.  
  
"So how did you end up headless, Ethan?"  
  
"Well thatsh obvioush!" he exclaimed, "An idiot came awong wish a really, really big axsh and shliced through our necksh!" A great spurt of blood spewed forth from Ethan's severed neck and hit Ichabod square in the face. He cringed,  
  
"Happens every time. Please continue. Do you know WHO did this?"  
  
"Of courshe! A guy wish an axsh, of courshe! Jeeshush. What do you take me for, a retard?" Ichabod sighed tensely,  
  
"I'm aware of that, Ethan. But specifically, WHO?"  
  
"Ooooh!" Ethan realized what he meant. "The Headlesh Horsheman." Ichabod smacked his forehead once more,  
  
"Finally..." He muttered.  
  
"You're going to get concushed if you keep doing thatsh." The chicken stated. Ichabod sighed,  
  
"THANK you, Ethan."  
  
After much talk, it was decided that it would be best to go and inspect the scene of the crime, as it were, so they did. Shawn and Ichabod bent over the bodies of the deceased chickens, intensely studying them.  
  
"Ah, yes..." Ichabod said, "I've seen this before. Definitely the work of the Headless Horseman. See, the neck wounds are fully cauterized."  
  
"Whash there ever any DOUBTSH that it wash him?" Ethan protested. Ichabod and Shawn ignored him and continued.  
  
"But the question is, WHY would a demon from hell, who was up until this point presumably satiated by getting his head back come up to Earth once more to cause such a paltry disturbance as beheading chickens?" asked Shawn.  
  
"PALTRY?" cried Ethan. He made a string of "shh" sounds, causing flying blood to spatter every which way, "You are going to getsh to the BOTTOM of thish, my shirs!"  
  
"Of course we are, Ethan. Who knows, he might start beheading humans again, and we wouldn't want that." Ethan began to exude an air of anger, but one could never be sure, as his lack of a head robbed him of all facial expression.  
  
"So where would this Headless Horseman have gone?" Sarah asked, kneeling down next to Shawn. She brushed a lock of hair out of her face.  
  
"Well... you seeeeeaaaggg..." He had momentarily lost all competent speech ability, and seemed as love-struck as Ichabod. He shut his eyes and sighed, trying to regain his lost composure, "Rickeytickeytickey..." Sarah quietly snickered, but tried not to look like she noticed.  
  
"I've got a friend in the next town who's quite good at Divination and that sort of thing. Word is he's a wizard, but one never knows. Maybe you've heard of him...Remus Lupin?" asked Leah.  
  
"Yeah...sure...he could be helpful..." Ichabod mumbled dazily. 


	2. Off to the City of Sin

"Well if we're going to visit this Remus, we'd better get going." said Llama, "Shall I get us some tickets for the train?" He scampered off to the train station, which was conveniently located across the street.  
  
By the time Llama got back with the train tickets, the sky had clouded over eerily and the puffs of smoke the train emitted were just visible over the horizon. Ichabod and Shawn had obviously embarrassed themselves, and were seated as far away from the girls as possible. Llama sat in the middle of them, twiddling his thumbs merrily.  
  
When the train arrived, they boarded silently, and found their seats.  
  
"Damn, it looks spooky out there..." Shawn commented, "Spooky...kk-kk-key kk-kk-key kk-kk-key..."  
  
"Stop it!" Sarah shoved Shawn playfully, and Shawn grinned back at her like a schoolboy. Sarah moved closer to him on their bench, and Shawn broke the tension by throwing his arms around her. They began to kiss madly, abandoning all reason. Ichabod sighed contemptibly. He couldn't work up the courage to throw his arms around Leah, and he hated watching Shawn get some while he himself sat there, totally alone. So he did the next best thing.  
  
"AAAAH! SPIDER! SPIDER!" He jumped up on top of Leah, curling up into the fetal position and eyeing the floor madly.  
  
"I didn't see a spider..." Sarah said, looking up.  
  
"Of COURSE you didn't!" Ichabod raved, "IT WAS HUGE!" Leah rolled her eyes,  
  
"You wanna make out with me, don't you?" Ichabod paused, and then nodded guiltily. Leah grasped his hand,  
  
"All right then!" They ran off to another car, Ichabod kissing her as they ran.  
  
Llama Van Tassel twiddled his thumbs merrily.  
  
When they got to their destination, Ichabod and Leah stumbled back to Shawn and Sarah's car, laughing all the way.  
  
"Oh Icky, you're so hilarious!" She mused. Llama raised an eyebrow,  
  
"Icky?" He asked skeptically, but no one paid much attention. Shawn and Ichabod busily did their shirts back up as they stepped off the train.  
  
"Any idea where this Remus chappie lives?" asked Ichabod. He'd given up on re-dressing, and his shirt was misbuttoned.  
  
"In that purple tent with the ruddy great sign that says "Remus Lupin, Clairvoyant?"" suggested Llama. Ichabod blinked,  
  
"Jolly good then. On we go."  
  
Pulling open the purple curtains over the tent, an acrid cloud of incense smoke hit them in the face. A couple could be seen making out wildly inside, and all too late the man who was presumably Remus noticed their presence.  
  
"Um, hey Remy." Leah said, "Glad to see you and Laura are still at it."  
  
"Quite," He said, adjusting his turban, "What can I do for you?" It wasn't until Ichabod had sat down with his arm around her that he commented, "Found yourself a man?"  
  
"Indeed," Leah replied, pulling closer to Ichabod. Remus lit another incense stick and stared at them intensely,  
  
"What can I do to predict the complicated maze of time for you?" He swirled his hands majestically around his big crystal ball, only slightly obscured by a great big crack straight through the middle.  
  
"You're not one of those topless psychics, are you?" asked Sarah.  
  
"I can be if you want me to be, sugar..." Remus wiggled his eyebrows.  
  
"Re-MUS!" Laura delivered him a sharp slap, "Any more and you'd start to sound like Sirius."  
  
"Anyway." He continued. He placed his hands on the crystal ball and rubbed it fondly, massaging it with his fingertips. Everyone was slightly surprised when he knelt down to it and began to kiss it fondly. He looked up, "Sorry. It helps me get into the moment. Now..." He went back to making out with the glass orb, starting to lick its surface. Laura didn't look like any of this was out of the ordinary, so Ichabod cleared his throat tensely, and waited for Remus to finish his queer ritual.  
  
"Now then." Remus' head snapped up like a Jack-In-The-Box. "Your problem is that you," He pointed to Shawn, "Have knocked her up." He pointed to Sarah, "And your child is going to be born a chicken." He sat back, satisfied and waiting for their shocked and amazed responses. They weren't exactly to his expectations, as Shawn had fallen to the floor, his body ravaged by silent giggles, the girls had been sent into laughing fits, and Ichabod's head currently rested on the table as he pounded one hand rhythmically in hysterics.  
  
"WHAT?" Remus asked over the tumult, "I was right, wasn't I?" Ichabod was the first one with the ability to answer.  
  
"Well, the chicken bit was right." He wiped a few tears from his eyes, "The chickens in our town are being decapitated by the Headless Horseman, and we want to know where he is."  
  
"Oh..." Remus looked horribly put out, "I see..."  
  
"No problem," Leah said briskly, "Now can you tell us where the Horseman is, or not?"  
  
"Yesh!" spoke up Ethan from the corner, "Tell ush!" Remus took no notice of the talking headless chicken, but instead sniffled softly,  
  
"I've never been wrong before. Not once." He looked to the floor, and Laura put a comforting arm around him. Remus looked dolefully over to his crystal ball,  
  
"Shall I try again?"  
  
"YES." Ichabod said, "Please. We REALLY need to know. You're our only hope." Remus sniffed again,  
  
"Really?" Ichabod rolled his eyes,  
  
"Yes, really. Now GET ON WITH IT." Remus stared contently into his crystal ball,  
  
"The man you seek," He switched back into mystical-mode, "Lurks..." He raised an eyebrow at the ball, "That can't be right."  
  
"What?" Sarah asked briskly, "What is it?" Remus tapped his crystal ball, confused, but then replied,  
  
"Caesar's Palace Casino in Las Vegas, Nevada...Don't ask me. Ask the ball."  
  
"Thanks a bunch, Remus!" Leah asked as they left, throwing money on the table after them, "We're gonna have to trust you this time."  
  
A train whisked them to London, where they were to catch the plane from. The lot of them looked a bit conspicuous in the middle of London International Airport, Shawn and Ichabod with their misbuttoned and old- fashioned shirts, and a headless chicken in tow.  
  
"I wonder if they shell shocolate covered almondsh here. I'm having a craving for shome of thoshe." Ethan spoke up, gathering some strange looks from some of their neighbours in the first class lounge. One man even fainted. "What?" Ethan spluttered, "Ain'tshoo ever sheen a headlesh talking shchicken before?"  
  
"I'd think it best for you to stay quiet and play dead..." Ichabod tried vainly to silence Ethan.  
  
"Nonshenshe!" Ethan cried, "I want shome shervishe!" He snapped his wing, "Barkeep, bring me a largshe Coshmopolitan and shome almondsh." As a last resort, Shawn stuffed his hand down Ethan's neck. He smiled nonchalantly at their fellow passengers,  
  
"What a great ventriloquist my friend Ichabod here is, eh? Give him a clap, ladies and gents!" A spattering of applause broke out, and Shawn tried to clap along with them, but then realized he still had a chicken on one hand. It wasn't soon enough when the announcer called them to their seats. Shawn bore off to the bathroom to sort out Ethan. No sooner had he yanked his hand from the neck, did Ethan break out in a series of messy splutters,  
  
"What in GODSH NAME DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING PSHHSHHSHSHHSHHH!" He sent a constant spray of blood all over Shawn.  
  
"You CAN'T talk. We had a close scrape back there. These are NORMAL people. In their world, headless chickens are DEAD! And moreover, they can't talk!"  
  
"Well then what kind of a pshycho world is thish we're living in?"  
  
"The kind where conformity is fun and Vin Diesel is the king of poster boys. Stoned monkeys control them all." Shawn spat.  
  
"Yesh. All right then." Ethan jumped off the sink and began to toddle unsteadily over to the door, "If you'll excushe me..."  
  
"Did you not HEAR me?" Shawn cried, "You can't be SEEN. Here. Play dead." Ethan flopped over onto his side, and let Shawn pick him up by the ankles. Oh, the looks he got, walking down the aisle of the plane wearing a shirt drenched in blood and holding a headless chicken.  
  
"Terrible nosebleed..." Shawn offered to a particularly scandalized passenger. He plopped down next to Sarah.  
  
"Jesus Christ, what happened to you?"  
  
"Ethan and I had a bit of an episode in the bathroom. No worries." The lady wheeled by with the drinks cart. With no more than a sideways glance at Shawn's bloodstained shirt, she smiled,  
  
"Any beverages for you today?"  
  
"Diet Shprite with a shqueeshe of lime!" croaked Ethan, but Shawn silenced him,  
  
"Yes, that, and a large vodka on the rocks." He leaned back stressfully in his seat.  
  
"And anything for the...ahem...happy couple?" asked the woman, in an attempt to pry apart Ichabod and Leah.  
  
"Condoms!" gasped Ichabod, and he received a prompt slap from Leah. The lady smiled tensely, handed over their drinks, and wheeled away.  
  
"I shaid lime, not lemon!" bitched Ethan, "Jeeshush." 


	3. Raoul & Gonzo Lessons in substance abuse

"All right, Caesar's Palace..." said Ichabod, holding up a giant, ludicrous Map-Of-The-Stars'-Homes he'd picked up from a street vendor, "This doesn't look like it'll be much help...Ooh, look! Sean Connery has a summer home in the Luxor!"  
  
"Could that gigantic, Roman themed hotel up ahead be it?" asked Sarah. They walked off towards the building, Shawn still grasping Ethan by the feet. Llama opened the door for them all, and they tramped inside, Shawn leaving bloody footprints on the carpet. A sneering bellman looked at them like he'd like to strangle them all slowly. Ichabod obnoxiously slammed the desk bell repeatedly, until a receptionist walked over to them.  
  
"Name?" She asked, preparing her records.  
  
"Well," said Shawn tensely, "We haven't got a reservation..."  
  
"No problem." The lady smiled happily, tapped some more on her keyboard, "We've got the Presidential Suite available for $630 a night, and other rooms going down in price from there. What can I get for you?" Shawn sighed helplessly, dug into his pockets and signaled for the others to do the same. A pile of change spread over the counter.  
  
"What can we get for that?" spoke up Ichabod.  
  
"Well, you can sit in the corner, and use the potted plants for toilets." The lady replied sorrowfully. Then she was hit full-on in the face by Ichabod's beauty. He realized the power he now wielded, and smiled like an underwear model. She stuttered slightly,  
  
"B-But I can't leave you FINE folks out in the cold, now can I? Customer service is what Caesar's Palace is all about, after all." She scraped their change into her palm, dumped it into the register, and signaled to a bellboy. "Follow Arthur. He'll show you to your...rooms."  
  
They were lead off past lavishly decorated corridors, grand shopping pavilions and casinos, down a dark hallway. The bellboy produced a set of tarnished keys and shoved one into the lock.  
  
"Cots are in section 8-D. You can grab yourselves some. Here's the spare key." He handed them another off the overloaded key ring, "Don't lose it." He walked off.  
  
They found themselves faced with a gigantic concrete storeroom. Two nasty, stained cots sat across the room from them.  
  
"Well, its better than the street..." commented Llama. Shawn put Ethan down.  
  
"Jeeshush H Chrisht!" Ethan exclaimed, "What a shithole."  
  
"This is what you get for free..." Ichabod said wearily as he and Shawn struggled to set up a cot. The door slammed open behind them, and two men staggered in. One was skinny, and looked a lot like Ichabod save for the fact that he was bald. The other was fat and ugly, with long unkempt black hair.  
  
"Holy fucking rat bastard!" The skinny one cried, "That's a headless chicken, and its TALKING!" He ran over to Ichabod, and grabbed him by his coat lapels, "I haven't had mescaline in eight HOURS!"  
  
"If you don't mind my asking, who the HELL are you guys?" asked Shawn.  
  
"As your attorney, I advise you to take one of these to try and make it go away." The fat man said, fishing a small paper square out of his suitcase, "Hello. My name's Dr. Gonzo, and that guy over there is my client Raoul Duke. We're on the run from the police for unpaid hotel bills." He shook Shawn and Ichabod's hands, and smiled greasily at Leah and Sarah. Raoul ran back over to them, flapping his arms and making electric guitar sounds.  
  
"GONZO, ITS NOT GONE! ITS NOT! WHAT DO I DOOOOOOOOOOO AAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!" Gonzo rolled his eyes, pulled out another small brown bottle and dumped some liquid on an American flag. He shoved it harshly at Raoul's face, and he crumpled to the ground, serene as a lamb. Gonzo smiled as if he'd done nothing more than hand Raoul a Rolaid.  
  
"Sometimes the acid don't work. We gotta bring out the big guns. Ether." He stuck the bottle back in his bag. Raoul paused from drawing shapes in the air with his finger, and looked at his leg in horror.  
  
"GRANDMA! NOOOO!" He began to beat his own leg senselessly. Shawn's eyebrows were raised in horror,  
  
"So...we're going to be sharing this room with you?" Gonzo looked up at them. He had an acid square stuck to his forehead,  
  
"Yep!" He smiled, "Looks like we're bunkies!" Then he fell over next to Raoul. Ichabod and Shawn wheeled their cots over to the opposite side of the room as fast as they could go.  
  
"I'm scared..." Llama commented from his cot, "Who knows. They could go on an acid binge and kill us all in their sleep."  
  
"I think they drug themselves so intensely that they can't do much of anything." commented Ichabod, where he lay with Leah on two cots pushed together.  
  
"Truth," said Shawn, from he and Sarah's double cot.  
  
In the morning, Llama awoke face-to-face with Raoul and Gonzo. Apparently they'd done their entire inventory of speed, and spent the night watching their roommates sleep.  
  
"Um...hi guys..." Ichabod sat up, not bothering to pull on a shirt. A high pitched squealing sound emitted from Gonzo's lips, and Raoul pulled a Rubik's cube from his shirt pocket and completed it in two seconds.  
  
"Well..." Shawn said, drumming his fingers, "Its been a slice, guys...But we'd better get going...Lots of...investigating to do..."  
  
"DowehaveanymorespeedDuke?" asked Gonzo, "Itswearinoffman..."  
  
"I got this from a guy in the casino..." He threw a bottle at Gonzo, "Weird guy. Didn't talk at all, and wore a really big coat." Something clicked in Ichabod's brain,  
  
"Did you get his name at all, Raoul?" He spoke slowly, so Raoul caught his every word.  
  
"Uh uh." Raoul shook his head, "You think I remember shit like that on a speed, mescaline, ether and acid trip? Coulda started with an H...or then again a G..."  
  
"Je ne suis pas l'orange! Je ne suis pas l'orange!" Gonzo cried, rolling around on the floor.  
  
"You shtoned bastard..." Ethan shook his neck from the bed.  
  
"RoBERTO BeNIGni!" Gonzo said in response. Raoul looked inquisitively at Leah,  
  
"Do they pay you to fuck that bear?" Ichabod glowered at him and yanked a shirt over his head,  
  
"We've got to find this guy. I just know he's plotting SOMETHING..." Ichabod said, "Now Raoul. Can you remember ANYTHING else about this guy?"  
  
"NO! I'M NOT GOING TO TELL YOU! NO!" Raoul stuck his head between his legs and began to hum the theme to Gilligan's Island. Ichabod rolled his eyes, and fished around in Gonzo's suitcase. His hand fluttered past cans and bottles and needles of all kinds, and came to rest on one of the acid squares.  
  
"I'll give you thiiiis!" He shook it before Raoul, and his eyes widened. He tried to compose his thoughts,  
  
"He's at the same table every night. Craps. And he ALWAYS wins...CAN I HAVE MY ACID NOW?" Ichabod sighed disgustedly and handed Raoul the little square, which he swallowed whole. He squished his lips like a fish's and fanned his arms around, his usual reaction upon doing a drug.  
  
"Well...we've really got to...go now, so we'll see you later, OK?" said Sarah.  
  
"We all live in a yellow submarine!" responded Raoul and Gonzo in perfect unison. 


	4. The Showdown

That night the casino was as busy as ever, and Ichabod and Shawn could only hope that what Raoul had told them was right. Ichabod had forced both of them to abstain from all intoxicants, save for the cigarette Raoul had clamped between his teeth so often it was essentially an extra appendage. As a result, the both of them were sober as judges, or as close as they'd ever been, anyway.  
  
"I can't TAKE this any more!" Raoul exclaimed, looking around frantically, "Everything's so CLEAR...it's worse than SPEED, god dammit!"  
  
"Only a few more hours, Duke..." Gonzo reassured him.  
  
"Shut UP you fat bastard! I'm not ranting for your benefit, you know." spat back Raoul. Llama looked at his watch.  
  
"You said he usually comes around 7, Raoul? I suggest we get a move on."  
  
What a motley crew they were, wandering out through the casino. It was everything a casino should be-bright, loud, obnoxious, and full of old ladies winning big money at the slots. Sarah and Leah had dressed to fit in with the rest of the Vegas women, and looked right at home hanging off the arms of Ichabod and Shawn.  
  
To Ichabod's annoyance, Raoul had snuck some acid before they left, and had fallen right back into his usual pattern of stumbling and hallucinating. Evidently something was attacking him, because he began to scream wildly and swat at the air around him. This didn't worry them too much, as the casino noise easily drowned him out.  
  
"We can't stop here! This is Bat Country!" he cried as they sat down at the bar. Raoul clamped his fisherman's cap firmly down on his bald head and looked around lividly.  
  
"A double gin for my friend here," Shawn patted Raoul's shoulder, "Highest proof you got." He winked at the bartender, who nodded in understanding.  
  
Ichabod rubbed Leah's shoulder fondly, and took a deep sip of his martini. Then it was so painfully obvious he had to slap his forehead once more. He'd tolerated Raoul for nothing. A tall man with a coat that looked as though it was pulled over his head saddled up to the bar a few chairs away from them. He ordered something big, clear and cold, and poured it straight down the neck of his jacket. Ichabod snagged a look at the signature on the man's tab,  
  
"H. Horseman..." He snorted into his martini, "How fucking original..." But how to go about this was the problem. When a scantily clad waitress asked him for a refill, it clicked. He slid the martini over to Raoul to keep him quiet, and pulled the others into a huddle.  
  
"Now, here's the plan," He began, "We've got to appeal to the Horseman's human nature, if he's got any left." He very obviously looked Sarah and Leah up and down, "You'll do nicely. Go over there, and pull out the old charm on him. Leave nothing out. We've got to get him back to the...room. Raoul, let me borrow this." He yanked the fisherman's cap off Raoul's unconscious head and clapped it over his messy mane of smolderingly sexy dark hair.  
  
"Now I am your pimp..." He smiled roguishly, and for effect threw off his suit jacket and undid a few of the buttons at the top of his shirt. "Llama is my recruiter. Now go to it."  
  
"What about me?" asked Shawn.  
  
"You can be my man-whore." Ichabod said matter-of-factly. He watched the girls with interest as they sidled over to the Horseman with full glasses of vodka. The Horseman seemed pleased at their offerings, and finished off the vodkas in two short gulps. Although Ichabod and Shawn were out of earshot, they could see he was pleased by his body language, and he threw tipsy arms around both girls. It was bizarre that no one noticed this man's lack of a head.  
  
Ichabod and Shawn tailed him closely, as he weaved through the casino, eventually stopping at a craps table. Ichabod pulled the fisherman's cap down over his dark eyes and lit a cigarette, leaning over the table under the pretense of watching the bets. He caught Leah's eye and smiled apologetically. Eventually the dice came around to the Horseman, and he tossed them with a quick flick of his gloved hand. Seven after seven came up, until it appeared he got tired of it and collected his wad of cash. Ichabod and Shawn braced themselves to rescue the girls, but they seemed to hold their own. All the way back to what was obviously the Horseman's room, they flirted shamelessly. However, this didn't keep them from shooting back desperate, helpless glances to Ichabod and Shawn.  
  
They barely managed to nip in after the girls, and for the first time the Horseman noticed their presence. Leah and Sarah ran to Shawn and Ichabod.  
  
"He smells so horrible..." Leah gasped, her heart going a mile a minute, "Like a rotting corpse, only ten times worse..."  
  
"Shh...its okay," Ichabod reassured, "I've just got to go...fight him off now. You stay here." He sat her on the floor, and strode smartly over to the Horseman.  
  
"Its just you and me now, you undead bastard!" He cried, gathering his scraps of strength. He whipped out his only weapon, a handsome Swiss Army Knife. "Would you hold on a second?" The Horseman sat silently while Ichabod flipped through the settings,  
  
"Bottle opener...no...screwdriver...no...corkscrew...maybe...Ah! Blade! Jolly good then!" He held the blade to where he presumed some flesh would be and narrowed his eyes menacingly. Succumbing to curiosity, he tore open the Horseman's jacket. What he saw next disgusted him beyond anything he'd ever seen before. It was worse than getting blood squirted in his face. Hell, it was worse than chocolate sauce. He staggered to the bathroom trying not to throw up.  
  
"Ichabod! What happened?" Leah rushed in after him.  
  
"Don't...look..." He gasped. Shawn had fainted dead away, and so Leah and Sarah approached the monstrosity. What they saw was a bit of an anticlimax.  
  
Where the Horseman's head used to be, so many ages ago, now was a grotesquely attached chicken head. It clucked randomly, and looked at them stupidly. Being incapable of English, the Horseman went out into the hallway, cleanly lopped off the head of a passerby and affixed it onto his own. After a moment, he looked at them,  
  
"Ichabod, take it easy!" He called in a rough, scratchy voice, "I'm just here for a vacay, mate! No worries!" Ichabod staggered out of the bathroom,  
  
"You...you aren't on a vindictive killing spree?" He asked, "You aren't after your own head, lopping off innocent victims' along the way." The Horseman chuckled,  
  
"Oh CHRIST no. My old head was getting a bit wrinkly, what with age and wear and all that, so I needed a new one. And I decided to go around with a chicken head for awhile, because what's the fun of being undead and somewhat magical if you can't mix and match? I also had a hankerin' for some really good fried chicken. You know how it is. C'mon, I was just having a bit of fun. Laughing it up in Vegas." Ichabod's eyes widened in surprise, and one of them had begun to twitch involuntarily,  
  
"So you mean..." He began to quake with anger, "We followed you to Las Vegas, risked life and limb, gave a psychic upwards of SIXTY DOLLARS, stayed in a STORAGE CLOSET WITH A COUPLE OF WAYWARD INSANE DRUG ADDICTS AND YOU TELL ME YOU WERE HAVING A BIT OF FUN? I FEAR AND LOATHE YOU IN LAS VEGAS, YOU SMARMY IDIOT!"  
  
"Calm down, darling..." Leah strode over to him and hugged him. He slowly began to calm down, but still stared maniacally at the Horseman. Meanwhile, Shawn and Sarah had been making out in a corner.  
  
"Let's get married!" said Shawn out of nowhere. Sarah happily obliged within two seconds of his asking.  
  
"We're in Vegas, the land of spur-of-the-moment marriages. Why not?" she replied, "Ichabod and Leah, you should try it too. They give two-for-one annulments, so its risk-free!" Ichabod shrugged. He did need something to take his mind off the whole Horseman incident.  
  
"Can I be the best man?!?!" The Horseman asked excitedly.  
  
"A wedding?" asked a random man from the door, dressed in Pirate garb, "I love weddings! Drinks all 'round!"  
  
"Jack, you slack-jawed idiot! Get back to Treasure Island and make those ladies thirsty!" called someone else from the hallway. The pirate-garbed man ran off.  
  
"So, where shall we hit?" Ichabod clasped his hands together.  
  
"There's a quaint little chapel just down the street." piped the Horseman, "I like to go there and watch the weddings. They just send chills down my spine." He wiped a tear from his eye.  
  
"Well!" Shawn clasped Sarah's hand happily, "Let's go!"  
  
After an initial fee of $10.00 for services (happily shelled out by the Horseman..."You love birds don't worry about a thing!") Leah and Sarah were lined up at the end of the aisle, while Ichabod and Shawn waited nervously at the back. The Horseman gave them a big cheesy wink.  
  
They'd picked up Ethan from the hotel room, and persuaded him to be their flower-chicken. He toddled down the aisle, throwing fake rose petals this way and that. Raoul and Gonzo were the only people in attendance, and Raoul was too busy trying to eat the rose petals to notice that there was a wedding taking place. Gonzo managed him with the air of a fed-up parent scolding a pesky two year old.  
  
For bridesmaids, they'd found Remus and Laura wandering about Vegas on a vacation, and got Laura to be one. The other was a rent-a-bridesmaid, a complimentary service of the chapel. They waltzed awkwardly down the aisle, and soon were standing in front of the altar which was still empty. Ethan and the Horseman had both dissolved into tears. Well, Ethan kind of made a sort of snorting noise and then sprayed blood all over the hems of Ichabod's trousers.  
  
Finally, a minister came in. He took the last swig out of a bottle of rum, and then cleared his throat. Instantly, they recognized him as the pirate man from the hotel. Now that they had a closer look, they could see he had enough eye makeup on to make the prostitutes on the strip look modest. His accent was thick, and of a Surrey persuasion.  
  
"Ello, I'm Father Captain Jack Sparrow and I'll be performing this highly irregular ceremony. Now, do you all promise to love each other forever and ever amen? Now if you'd sign this document saying you're both not eunuchs, are not under the intoxication of liquor or other substances and that annulments are only valid before marriage consummation, if you get what I mean, mate..." He nudged the boys conspiratorially," Now. You both kiss your poppets, savvy?" He gestured to Shawn and Ichabod, " And Bob's your uncle, Fannie's your aunt, you're married! The state of Nevada considers this marriage full and binding. Here's 5 dollars each in poker chips. Drinks all 'round!" He took a swig out of a hip flask and passed out cold on the floor. A tall man with blonde hair and a boyish face walked in. He was wearing priesty clothing. He took one disgusted look at the passed out Jack and apologized profusely,  
  
"Has he been posing as a member of the clergy again? Oh well, no bother, none of us are real priests anyway. My name's Edward Norton. We need two witness signatures on here other than people who were in the ceremony." He gestured to the marriage license and looked out into the empty audience.  
  
"They can sign." Shawn pointed to Gonzo and Raoul. Gonzo's signature was easy to get, but it took some coaxing to get Raoul coherent.  
  
"You're sure you haven't been drinking, Mr. Duke?" asked Edward.  
  
"There once was a man named Seamus Finnigan!" replied Raoul, joyously signing the document "I.P. Freely" Edward rolled his eyes and shoved the paper into the folds of his priesty robe.  
  
Somehow they got everyone out onto the strip, the newlyweds happy as pie, and everyone in a general state of euphoria, especially Raoul who had an LSD square stuck to his forehead and a fake mustache made of cocaine.  
  
"It's been a slice, guys..." Ichabod said, happily kissing Leah, "Glad we got things sorted out, Mr. Horseman."  
  
"Call me Jimmy. I'm off to Bermuda next. Now that I'm not so murderous, its time to see the sights. Now, I've got to run. My plane leaves in an hour. I'll send you a postcard. Happy wedding day!" He waved goodbye and ran off, his long dark coat flapping behind him.  
  
"Gonzo and Raoul..." Shawn raised his eyebrows, "Well, you were an experience. Try not to OD too bad, eh Raoul?"  
  
"IhaveareservationatTHIIIIIIShotel and THAAAAAATS my lawyer!" Raoul answered, pointing wildly to Gonzo, "And i've got a half-pint of ether!"  
  
"I'm sure you have." Sarah patted his shoulder reassuringly. Raoul screamed and began to run wildly down the strip.  
  
"Well, I better go after him." Gonzo said, gave them a quick goodbye, and sprinted off after the wiry Raoul as fast as his fat frame would let him. After about ten feet of running, he had to stop, take a hit of speed, and then keep going.  
  
"YOU CAN'T CATCH ME, YOU NARCOTICS AGENT!" Raoul called back insanely.  
  
"Holy shit, I may just have to take up mescalin after meeting those two..." Ichabod shook his head. Leah gave him a reproving look, and he laughed.  
  
"Close, but not quite. I'll settle for a glass of illegal Absinthe and being fucked all night, though!" He said happily. Leah clasped his hand in hers,  
  
"Sounds like a plan. Treasure Island hotel, guys?"  
  
Sarah and Shawn were now lying on the grungy sidewalk making out. Evidently they couldn't wait.  
  
"C'mon guys, get up, before the hookers get you." They managed to get them up, and walked off in pursuit of the majestic Treasure Island hotel, which was framed picturesquely by the setting sun. 


End file.
